


Color

by orphan_account



Series: HisoKuro Crack Drabbles [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M, Out of Character, attempted humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3886264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from a friend: "I'm a cashier and I saw you stuffing your pants full of potatoes and I would stop you but you already have 27 and I want to see how many you can fit AU"<br/>Complete crack and OOCness, but there needs to be more HisoKuro content out there so this is my lame attempt of a contribution. Please brace yourselves for bad grammar and horrid plot and enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nico and Faye](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nico+and+Faye).



> So this is a very short and extremely crack fanfic, but if there are any huge grammar errors or plot holes (there will most certainly be many, as I wrote this in a very sleep-deprived state and I have not written any form of fanfiction or creative writing in over a year) please let me know and I will do my best to fix it.  
> On another note, please, anyone, contribute fanfics and art on HisoKuro so I do not have to write more for my own desperate shipping entertainment. x-x  
> Anyways, enjoy the dumbness and OOCness.

It wasn't often that he saw something interesting while working. Rather, it wasn't often that he saw anything interesting at all. Life was mundane. Bleak. Black and white, with little color to brighten his dampened spirits.

The man let out a sigh, one that whispered of troubles and sorrow. Life became meaningless when it was filled with aimless tasks. Wake up, walk to the store in ratty torn shoes, and stand in the same place for hours on end, speaking to customers, but not really knowing the words escaping his chapped lips. Work and work on minimum wage until the clock declared his freedom, walk home with somber eyes glued to the sky, and inhale a pack of cigarettes. Sleep, with the bitter taste of smoke coating his throat and curling around his teeth. Wake up and repeat the same cycle, day after day.

His only relief were his group of close friends, some who worked with him at the store, and the others who manned the gas station a block away. They were funny and interesting, and he appreciated their company. But they were not nearly enough to pry open his heart and brighten his spirits. Not colorful enough to paint the grey skies crystal blue and the rotting leaves a glowing emerald.

And so Chrollo Lucilfer lived day after day, in the hollow cycle of life.

~~~

One day, not a particularly special day, a man, dressed in the strangest possible manner, entered the store. Chrollo found his eyes wandering to the figure, like a moth attracted to a burning lamp. The man had his hair dyed in the most ridiculous color - _fuchsia? hot pink?_ \- and styled up to resemble a pixie ( _Kind of like something from the “Fairly Odd Parents”, yes that’s it_ , Chrollo mused). His fashion was the most peculiar thing he had ever witnessed. Studded red heels, checkered socks dotted with hearts, beige harem pants that stretched only to his mid-thigh, and of all things, a neon yellow vest revealing his bare chest beneath. His brows raised at this observation, and he did what every rule-abiding cashier at any market would do.

“Um, sir,” Chrollo coughed, speaking out to the odd man. “Store regulations require that all customers wear a shirt...if you don’t mind, could you-”

But the man had already walked away, sauntering into the children’s section where diapers and baby food were located. Chrollo frowned, turning back to the register after a moment of watching the back disappear into the aisle.

It was only a few minutes later when Machi, the man’s close friend of many years and fellow worker at the market, came storming up to him, eyes ablaze with fury. The raven had to suppress a surprised step back.

“Chrollo, there’s a crazy bastard running loose and you need to do something about it.” Her hands shot to grip her hips, the scowl marring her face growing more intense by the second.

“Whatever do you speak of, Machi?” A small smile graced his lips as her brows furrowed further. It was rare to see the girl lose her temper in such a manner, and, though he would never admit it, the cashier was milking her anger for all it was worth.

“This...this pink haired _imbecile_ is riding around the store in one of the toddlers’ unicycles! He just _took_ the damn thing out of the box and now he’s _riding around the store in it!”_

Chrollo had to suppress a laugh at the image, and found himself surprised by the action. He could not remember the last time he had the urge to genuinely laugh.

“Man my station for me, will you? I’ll go sort it out.”

Machi nodded angrily, the fumes steaming from her head nearly visible. Chrollo breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he left the constricting, small register, beginning his search for the strange man.

~~~

It wasn’t hard to find him.

The man, or boy if age were based upon actions, had stumbled into the shelf of potatoes, knocking a good number over.

“Shit,” Chrollo heard faint mumbling, as the man proceeded to shove the fallen unicycle under the potato shelf in a vain attempt to conceal any evidence, and stare at the pile of dropped vegetables with a lost expression. Chrollo almost laughed at the sight, and found it even harder to contain his laughter when then man began to scramble to pick up the potatoes from the ground. The man, or _clown_ as Chrollo was beginning to refer to him as, scrunched his brows as he stared at the bunch of potatoes in his arms.

“Shit,” he repeated, biting his lower lip. “What do I do with these?”

Chrollo came to the conclusion that the clown must have been high or quite intoxicated, as he began to shove the potatoes into his pants with a grin, as if struck by a genius idea. Now, at this moment, any self-respecting employee at the market would barge in upon the scene and remove the offending man from the store. Chrollo couldn't bring himself to do so. It had been far too long since he had seen something out of the ordinary, and he was quite content in watching the man shove potato after potato down his pants, wondering how many vegetables he could possibly fit in there. At long last, the clown stood up from his kneeling position, an expression of pride overtaking his face. It was at this moment Chrollo decided to step in.

“Sir,” he spoke out, and the clown’s eyes shot up in surprise, an innocent smile replacing his prideful one.

“Yes, how may I help you?”

“I...” Chrollo’s eyes darted down to the clown’s crotch, which had now been quite enlarged. He cleared his throat. “I believe I asked you earlier, but store regulations require for all customers to wear a shirt while shopping.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” the man responded with a smirk, a tongue darting out to lick the corner of his curved mouth. Chrollo coughed. _He most certainly saw me looking at his crotch._

“If you don’t mind, please allow me to lead you outside, else I will call security.”

“Ohhh, of course, it would be my pleasure.” The man's face morphed into something ridiculously suggestive, but all Chrollo was able to see was a grossly disproportionate face in the funniest of expressions.

Chrollo had been doing quite a record-breaking number of suppressing emotions that day, as he once again attempted to defeat the bubble of laughter that was about to erupt from his mouth. The clown was pure insanity, but the kind that made the market seem a little less dull.

The two walked towards the exit of the market, the strange man’s dance-like saunter resulting in more attention towards his stuffed pants. Parents shot out their hands to cover their children’s innocent eyes, groups of huddled teenagers pointed and giggled at the strange scene, and old ladies shrieked in a mix of fury and astonishment. Of course, anyone would question a brightly (and quite sketchy) colored man showing off his chest for the world to see, sporting a strangely shaped crotch. The two finally made their way outside, and immediately Chrollo noticed that the clown’s bumpy crotch was significantly smaller than it was before. Peering back into the market, the cashier noticed a trail of fallen potatoes. It was then when a burst of laughter finally made its escape.

“You...you...” Chrollo snickered, bringing his hand up to his face in a vain attempt to cease his laughter. He had not laughed in years; the feeling was foreign, but not necessarily unwanted. “You stuffed...32 potatoes in your pants...” the raven dissolved into a fit of giggles, and the clown looked somewhat disappointed.

“Oh, you noticed? I thought I was in the clear,” he grumbled, leading to another fit of giggles from the usually stoic man.

The world was brighter, more joyful. As Chrollo wiped the tears from his eyes, he looked up at the strange man.

“I can't believe you had the nerve to do such a thing. You're quite the character," he spoke, reaching out a hand. "Chrollo. Nice to meet your acquaintance, and thank you for the entertainment."

“Hisoka,” the odd one replied with a smirk, grabbing the offered hand and abruptly pressing a kiss to the skin. The cashier laughed once more, eyebrows turned upwards and eyes alight with surprise. This was the kind of light he had wished for. The kind that made the world radiant, colors and brightness overwhelming his senses. This joy, this laughter; he had been craving it, and had finally found in in this strange clown who called himself Hisoka.

 _Hisoka_. The name itself sounded strange and free. Chrollo repeated the peculiar name in his head, _Hisoka, Hisoka, Hisoka_ , wishing that he could say the name aloud without embarrassing himself in front of the man.

“Would you care to go out some time for a drink?” He asked, in an attempt to change the direction of his thoughts. He could not prevent the slightly hopeful tone from escaping into his voice.

He was met with a smile.

“It would be my pleasure.”


End file.
